


You're My Champion

by funfan



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M, Post-WC, Secret Relationship, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:39:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2327360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funfan/pseuds/funfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco and Erik meet in the training camp after Germany's successful World Cup campaign, but things don't exactly go the way they imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My Champion

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, it's my first attempt at Durmeus (if such an expression exist), so don't expect much from it.

The day Marco had been looking forward to ever since they arrived at Bad Ragaz finally came. It wasn’t like he hadn’t enjoyed the first days of the training camp; he got along well with the majority of his teammates, but somehow no one could fill the hole that a special one’s absence left behind. He had hoped that he would share a room with Erik, he could have borne the few nights he would have had to sleep alone; even a room on his own would have been perfect. But just as they arrived, Klopp announced that he and Auba were accommodated together.

Not that he had any problems with the Gabonese; he liked the guy very much, but they barely had anything in common to talk about aside from football. Not to mention the fact that Auba still struggled with German, and Marco wasn’t in the mood of talking in English, which he practically hated ever since school. So they spent most of their evenings sitting on their beds, both of them occupied with their phones; Auba speaking with his friends, and Marco– well, acting like a jealous possessive boyfriend. He had promised himself that he would not check on the defender, but he had failed the first day they spent apart.

They had met after the World Cup; it was rather Erik stopping by Marco to say hi and then leaving immediately to his family. The midfielder couldn’t blame him; he probably would have done the same. If he were a World Champion. The thought still burnt his whole body and filled him with utter sorrow. But it was something he had to live with for the rest of his life: he had missed the biggest stage of his lifetime, because of the stupidest thing one could imagine.

Ever since Erik left for Pirmasens, Marco had been counting down the days they would see each other again. They texted regularly, made phone calls in the middle of the night (it was the only time both of them could speak undisturbed), but their contact was minimal, at least compared to how much time they had spent together earlier. It was then when Marco took to checking all the yellow papers in order to learn something about his boyfriend. It was all surreal, almost comic: he was probably the closest person to Erik, how could he expect that a scribbler would know something more than him? And Erik didn’t disappoint. Given the shy guy he was, there was no wonder that there was no sign of him in any major tabloid. Not even in Bild, and that’s saying something!

But the remaining days slowly passed and one after another the World Cup players rejoined the team on the training ground. Marco was making great progress, all the doctors would have said that such a thing was unrealistic, but he had great motivation to go on. He was eager to get back on the pitch as soon as possible. The training camp was hard for him: seeing his friends leave for team training, while he and Kuba just ran around and around all day long was painful. And then, Matze arrived.

The new recruit cut his holiday short to be able to get ready for the new season. It wasn’t the problem: Marco had talked to him a few times in the national team, and he kind of liked the young defender, but he was also aware of the fact that Erik and he were very close friends. And when Marco said very, he meant it. He was getting jealous of the defender and maybe he was overreacting (well, decidedly that), but he didn’t care. He had had a few dozen relationships, and the number speaks for itself: neither of them really worked out. And all his life he had been the one left behind. So maybe that was the reason behind his constant fear of losing Erik.

He had woken up with great anticipation nonetheless. They left early for a cycling tour around the city that Marco enjoyed. The fresh air cleared his mind of any worries. He was going to meet his love in a few hours and he didn’t want any unnecessary concern getting in their way. By the time they got back to the hotel, Dortmund’s contingent had grown with two more players. Kevin and Erik were waiting before the building, greeting their teammates not seen for a long time. Marco wanted to run straight towards the defender and throw himself into his arms, bury his face in the younger one’s chest, but they hadn’t announced their relationship to anyone yet. So instead, they just nodded at each other and shook hands casually.

Marco had thought that Erik being close to him was going to dismiss all his fears and gloomy feelings, but he had been wrong. In a way, it was even worse to see the person closest to his heart speaking to others but not to him. In the afternoon Kevin, Erik and Marco left for the local track to undergo some special tests. Marco kept running behind Erik the whole time, concentrating mainly on the defender’s buttocks, but hey, at least he found a motivation. All three of them finished the running exhausted and were back in the hotel before the others.

“Room 27.” Marco whispered into Erik’s ear as they climbed the stairs. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

He basically ran into his room, grabbed his towel and headed straight to the bathroom to take a shower. The cold water cooled his still warmed body, washing away all the sweat sticking to his skin. Just when he got out of the stall, he heard a knock on the door. He rushed out to answer it, wrapping his towel around his hips, while trying to style his hair with his hand.

“Hello.” Erik muttered under his breath, taken aback by the view that welcomed him. He was wearing a BVB T-shirt and short, his hands hidden in its pockets.

“Come on in.” Marco invited him, opening the door.

Erik entered shyly, keeping his head low, as if he was afraid to look at Marco. The midfielder could still see the two red blushes that Erik had after physical activities. Marco didn’t give him much time to look around, as soon as he closed the door, he pushed the defender against the wall, kissing him passionately.

“I missed this so much.” He mumbled between two kisses.

“Me too.” Erik agreed, but somehow he pulled out of the contact.

“What’s wrong?” Marco asked concerned.

“Nothing.” Erik sighed. “It’s stupid. I just haven’t imagined our reunion this way.”

“Well, what did you expect?” Marco asked a bit sarcastically, resting his hands on Erik’s hips.

“I don’t know.” Erik stooped his head. “I said it was stupid, forget it!”

“No, Erik.” Marco stated confidently.

He pulled Erik to his bed and they sat down. The room was quite messy, with Marco’s and Auba’s things flung about the place. Erik started to wring his hands in anxiety, until Marco reached over and grabbed them.

“Talk to me, Erik.” He said gently, sending a reassuring look toward the defender.

“I’m sorry, I was just disappointed. I had imagined it so many times and it wasn’t like I wanted it to be. When you kissed me immediately, it felt like we were together only to get some sex.” Erik blushed in shame.

“What? Erik, I don’t get it.”

“I know, me neither. At least not completely. But you know, there are so many things we haven’t talked about and I kind of hoped that we would do that first.”

“It’s about the World Cup and my injury, isn’t it?” Marco sighed.

He had had enough of all the sympathetic looks and encouraging pats. Everyone tried to reassure him that everything was going to be alright, that there would be other opportunities for him, but he knew they were empty hopes. He had missed the WC glory his country had been looking forward to for years. No one could change that. And yes, he still could become a European Champion, and he was going to do everything he could, but it wasn’t even close to what all footballers dream about.

“It is. Marco, I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me how do you feel.” Erik started, but Marco cut him short. The midfielder sprung up, letting go Erik’s hands.

“Why does everyone think that I need help?” He shouted. “I’m OK, you get it? You cannot turn back time, Erik. No one can. Get over it finally, will you?”

“No. Not until _you_ get over it.” Erik was startled by his boyfriend’s outburst. “You’re clearly not alright, and if you don’t do something about it, it will ruin you. We need you, Marco. And we need you at your best.”

“I will be there, but I can get there on my own. I don’t need anyone’s help. Not yours, not anyone’s.”

Erik opened his mouth to say something, but a sweaty Auba enter the room, cutting him short. The striker took a quick glance at them and he didn’t have to be a mastermind to see what was going on. Erik was sitting on Marco’s bed, shaking from rage and powerlessness, Marco showing him his back, breathing heavy of fury.

“Am I interrupting something?” The Gabonese asked warily.

Marco sent him a stabbing look that wished him nothing good, but Erik got up and started off his way.

“No, I was already going.” The youngster said as he walked past them.

Erik rushed into his room, almost not noticing Matze, who was sitting on his bed, carefully folding a few of his T-shirts. The newcomer looked questioningly at Erik, who slumped down on his bed, face buried in a pillow. Matze was clueless, so he decided to continue in his previous activity, but Erik kept squirming, and at one point he got a box out of his pocket and shoved it to the floor.

“Should I ask?” Matze asked finally.

“No.” Erik mumbled, refusing to look at his friend. “How was training?”

Matthias went on talking about his first experiences, their teammates, but Erik didn’t really pay attention. He was occupied with his own thoughts. He still couldn’t believe Marco’s behavior. He had expected that the midfielder would still be disappointed about his WC-miss, but it didn’t justify his words. And that made Erik wonder: maybe he could have prevented things getting this far. When he got home from Brazil he barely visited Marco and then he left for holiday immediately. But back then he didn’t realize what a wreck the midfielder had been. Truth be told, he wasn’t looking for such signs, he was still overwhelmed by the WC-win. But it was understandable, right?

“Are you even listening to me?” Matthias brought him out of his pensiveness.

“I’m sorry.” Erik apologized, propping himself up on one elbow.

“What’s happened?” Matthias asked, worry written all over his face.

“I wish I could tell you.” Erik sighed. They had agreed with Marco that they would never go public, not even in front of their teammates and it hurt him a lot of times, when he had to lie or at least hold his tongue.

“You can tell me everything.” He pushed, getting the box from the floor. “What’s this for example?”

“Give it to me!” Erik sprung up, snatching it from his hand, before he could open it.

“Alright, I had no idea it was so confidential.” He raised his hands apologetically.

“It’s not.” Erik shook his head. “I brought it for Marco, but I don’t think it was a good idea anymore.”

“And that was all it took for you to get sulky all of a sudden?”

“No– it’s more complicated than that. You couldn’t possibly understand it.”

“Thank you for trusting me so much.” Matthias said jokingly. “I don’t get you, Erik. I thought we were friends and we shared everything with each other.”

“Yeah, we are friends, but– this is different.”

“Alright, Mr. Mysterious.” Matthias mumbled and left the room. Erik leant forward and buried his face in his hands.

Matze had no idea where he was going; all he knew was that he wanted to be away from Erik. The defender acted totally strange, not at all like him. But just when he shut the door, he realized he didn’t know anyone else from the squad. There were the members of the national team, but most of them were still on holiday, and Matze didn’t quite come to like Kevin.

So instead of socializing with someone, he decided to find the reason behind his friend’s distress. He wasn’t going to drop the issue. If he wasn’t getting any answers from Erik, he would get them from Marco. He started off the midfielder’s room’s way. He was about to knock on the door, when Auba opened it.

“Oh, hi!” He stammered. “Is Marco in there?” When he noticed the striker’s confused look, he repeated the question in English. The Gabonese nodded and made him way before leaving.

Marco was clearly in a state close to Erik’s. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling expressionlessly, but his posture suggested that he was troubled by a lot of thoughts. He sent a glance to Matthias when he entered, then went back to his previous position. _Great_ , he thought, _the last person I want to be with right now_.

“Hi.” Matze broke the awkward silence between them.

“If Erik sent you, you can leave right now. I don’t want to waste your precious time.”

“He didn’t send me. Well, he didn’t need to. I came on my own.”

“Congratulation for poking your nose into something you have nothing to do with.”

“Listen, I don’t know what I did to deserve this kind of talking, and I don’t even care.”

Marco couldn’t answer anything to that. He was arrogant for no particular reason, but images of Matthias solacing _his_ boyfriend, whom _he_ had offended, kept emerging in his mind. Even in that case, he should have been grateful to Matthias for trying to put an end to Erik’s pain, but jealousy took over him completely.

“Erik’s hurt, Marco. I have no idea what had happened between the two of you, but I’m his friend and I don’t like to see him that way. Talk to him, please.” He didn’t wait for any answer; he turned around and left Marco behind, deeper in his thoughts than before.

Matthias was right and Erik too. He didn’t get over his WC-miss yet, but he would have rather died than admit it. He hated being weak and he did everything to conceal the tolls all the hardships took on him. It shouldn’t have been this way. Erik was his boyfriend; he should have been seeking support in him instead of pushing him away. But he had always been the breaking kind rather than one who bent. It caused him a lot of pain and to the ones close to him as well, but he couldn’t change who he was. And still, it seemed unfair to make Erik suffer because of his own stubbornness.

Holding onto that thought, he hauled himself off the bed, grabbing the knob and yanked the door open. He stepped to the hallway, rooms of his teammates on both sides. _Which one is Erik’s?_ , he asked himself over and over again. Finally, he turned to the right, driven by an unknown instinct that would draw him to his love whenever they were in the world. In the end, he found the right room only on the third try.

Erik was sitting in an armchair, looking at the content of a small box. As Marco entered, he lifted his head and the midfielder could see the mixed feelings in his eyes. But above all, the young defender was– worried.

“Hey, I need to talk to you.” Marco started. Erik kept staring at him in the same way, so he continued. “I’m not good at talking so sorry if I suck.” He took a deep breath to get ready for all the things he needed to say. “First of all, I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have snarled at you. You only wanted to help me, so it was really bad from me to slag you off. I don’t want to bring up my injury, because that’s not an excuse. But it changed a lot of things, made a lot of wounds and some of them haven’t healed yet.”

“I get it, Marco.” Erik nodded. “And I won’t push you, but I want you to know that whenever you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“Thank you. It means a lot. After that stupid game I went home and I was alone. Yes, my friends came over and we went on a holiday, but I couldn’t really share my pain with anyone. And it seems that it overpowered me.”

“But now I’m here.” Erik smiled as he walked over to Marco. “And I’ve got something for you.” He grabbed the small box, mustering all his strength and gave it to Marco.

“What the fuck?” The midfielder exclaimed as he opened the package.

“Relax, it’s not the original, just a replica.” He explained hurriedly.

“Erik, I can’t have it. I’m not a–”

“You deserve it as much as I do.” Erik cut him short, wrapping his fingers around Marco’s. “I want you to take it. Maybe it will help. You do whatever you want with it: put it somewhere in your apartment, throw it away, smash it, I don’t care. But please, at least take it.”

“Okay.” Marco sighed. “Thank you.” He slid Erik’s present into his pocket.

“You’re my champion, Marco.” Erik whispered before they pressed their lips together. And it seemed that the small gold medal in the midfielder’s pocket was the first step of getting through his hardships. Together.


End file.
